


Capsule

by Skylark, Swiftling (Skylark)



Series: SASO 2015 [13]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Character Study, Hopeful Ending, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Medication, Reunions, Tense Change, keeping secrets, passing mention of masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Swiftling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fancy meeting you here," Takao says. He only feels mildly surprised. Midorima has new worry lines between his brows, and his height seems willowy now instead of awkward. But overall he seems the same—same green eyes, same piercing stare—right down to the brown paper bag clutched in his fist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capsule

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stereosymbiosis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereosymbiosis/gifts).



> [Prompt:](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/7182.html?thread=2602254#cmt2602254) "in the future i saw your ghost again. it was at the pharmacy this time. you know i care about you. cared about you."

Takao never told anyone that he knew.

It happened every 30 days like clockwork. Midorima, by his own description, would eat his dinner at home (starches and vegetables separate; all food groups represented; three glasses of water, at the least; no pork). He would wipe at the corners of his mouth, murmur a thanks for the meal, and return his dishes to the sink.

After that, he would vanish.

He wouldn't answer his phone no matter how many times Takao called, or his text messages no matter how many were sent. But he always reappeared an hour and a half later, sounding no different from before.

"Where were you?" Takao asked every time.

"I was otherwise occupied."

"Not even a perfectionist like you needs an hour and a half to masturbate."

 _"Takao."_ He could hear Midorima's frown in his tone, and paradoxically it made his own grin widen.

Takao tapped restless fingers against his headboard. "Even when you're studying you'll pick up your phone," he said. "What are you doing?"

"It's none of your concern," Midorima replied, and no matter how many times Takao needled him about it, he never got more of an answer than that. Considering how unlikely it was that Midorima was doing anything illegal or life-threatening, it eventually faded from an actual concern to a passing curiosity: one more thing that made Midorima a puzzle that Takao couldn't help but try to unlock. 

\--

Midorima would look out of place anywhere: too tall, with hair too green, and with the corners of his mouth turned down too far to appear as anything but unapproachable. But he stood out even more at the 24-hour pharmacy, the blue-white fluorescent lights washing out his pale skin until he looked almost ghostly.

Takao ducked into an aisle before he could stop himself and watched Midorima scan the small store after entering. Takao's mother had sent him out on a last-minute run for band-aids, and he hadn't expected...well, he hadn't expected to see Midorima stride towards the counter without hesitation, and for the pharmacist to greet him by name. His voice was pitched too low to hear the conversation he had with the pharmacist, but Takao didn't think he wanted to know anyway. 

He waited until Midorima left the pharmacy before stepping out of the aisle, the box of band-aids half-crushed in his fist.

Thirty days later, he timed Midorima's unexplained absence. Twenty-five minutes for Midorima to walk to the pharmacy, probably picked intentionally far from his home so he wouldn't run into any neighbors; forty minutes to get his prescription filled; another twenty-five minutes' walk back. An hour and a half round trip exactly.

Takao usually felt pleased when he solved another of Midorima's endless mysteries. He didn't this time.

\--

They meet again, years later, at a pharmacy in a different ward of Tokyo.

"Fancy meeting you here," Takao says. He only feels mildly surprised. Midorima has new worry lines between his brows, and his height seems willowy now instead of awkward. But overall he seems the same—same green eyes, same piercing stare—right down to the brown paper bag clutched in his fist.

Takao smiles wryly, knowing what he must look like by comparison: an exhausted salaryman working overtime every night to make his deadlines. Midorima's tie probably cost as much as his entire suit.

"You look well," Midorima says, and Takao snorts.

"I'm okay," he admits. "Busy. How's the hospital?"

"Busy as well," Midorima echoes, nodding. He cocks his head to the side, looking down at Takao over the tops of his glasses. It's such a familiar gesture that for a moment Takao feels like no time has passed. "It's valuable work, and I enjoy it."

Takao nods. "I'm glad," he says, meaning it.

They stand in silence for a few moments. "It's very late," Midorima finally says with a quiet cough. "Do you live nearby?"

Takao shakes his head. "I was just in the area and had to pick some things up. How about you?"

He's surprised when Midorima nods. "I live about five minutes' walk from here," he says.

"So you stopped hiding it?" Takao says before he can think better of it. 

Midorima's answering gaze is sharp. Takao swallows, thinking fast, before he forces his mouth into a sharp little smile. "I never told anyone," he reassures him, "but I knew."

"How?"

Takao shrugs. "I knew everything about you," he says. The honesty of it, both in the statement itself and the past tense it's phrased in, hurts more than he expects.

Midorima blinks at him. 

Takao's answering shrug is a little angry, a little helpless. It's two in the morning and he hasn't gotten more than two hours of sleep a night for the past three days. He feels entitled to a little honesty. "You know I care about you," Takao says; then his courage fails. "Cared about you."

Midorima still pushes his glasses up with a precise finger applied to the bridge of his nose. His expression still slackens in the way it always used to when Takao's quick tongue lowered his defenses. Part of Takao despairs that he can still read Midorima so well.

"Thank you," Midorima says, and his voice is soft. The gentleness of it reminds Takao of listening to Midorima fall asleep on the phone line. 

There are a million things Takao could say right now. Instead he chooses small talk. "I should get going, I guess," he says. "Good night, Midorima."

He turns, but is stopped by the sensation of long fingers seizing his sleeve. 

Midorima clears his throat again. "I said earlier that I live very close to here," he says. "The trains have probably stopped running by now. If you would like, you could stay with me for the night."

Takao stares at him. Incredibly, Midorima's cheeks color slightly. He looks down and murmurs, "Besides, I would...like to talk with you more. Catch up on old times, as it were."

Takao glances down at the brown bag in Midorima's hand, and then at the identical bag he holds. There's no telling what's inside either of them. It could be medication, or headphones, or cigarettes, or empty space. 

He thinks about all the unsolved puzzles Midorima represents. Years later, he finds that he still wants to unlock them.

"Sure," Takao says, and Midorima glances up with surprise and—pleasure, he thinks, he's pleased. The knowledge of it lights something warm and quiet inside of Takao's chest. "If you'll have me."

"An old friend such as yourself would always be welcome," Midorima replies.

**Author's Note:**

> I've realized that this fic might be a little too vague; if you're wondering about the specifics of the meds etc., [I talked about it in this comment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478374?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_47105297).


End file.
